EPILOGUE #2
Silence stretched in separate one-sided stare downs. Veritas studied Willa, and Willa continued to glue her gaze to the table.
The agent sighed and placed his pen down, fanning his fingers out flat. “Fair enough. Are you absolutely sure you don’t have anything else to share? What you mentioned before is what you want written in the report.”
“Y-Yes.” She nodded.
Gabriel frowned.
She was acting weird, but there weren’t any ghosts attacking her. He’d made damned sure of it.
That was one certain benefit from getting linked together. He could mask her glow from other ghosts to some extent and fight off the persistent spirits.
Ben shifted his attention to the agent. “Report? What report? Who is this chucklehead?” He paused, glancing at the surroundings for the first time, as if they’d been hazy before—and that was probably true.
Dull walls, a ceiling-mounted camera up high in a dark corner, a metal table, and chairs… so mundane and unmemorable, yet neither of them could forget what’d happened here.
“What the…” Ben trailed off, because cursing wasn’t how he rolled. The guy was an American all-star kid if there ever was one. Captain of the football team, kind to everyone, and he didn’t drop any curse words with females present—even if Willa couldn’t hear them. “No. Are we where I think we are?”
“Yes,” Gabriel confirmed but otherwise ignored him, focusing on something much more puzzling.
Willa licked her lips, a surefire sign that she was nervous. “May I go now?”
Veritas frowned at the form then glanced at the camera. Gabriel paid attention, wanting to know the real purpose behind this entire sham of a meeting.
Certainly, it wasn’t to gather information about that night. How many days had passed? Three? Five?
More indecipherable coding followed. Gabriel’s eyes drew up to the line that’d alarmed him, only to see something even worse written in all caps with the agent’s growing frustration: WHY CAN’T I TELL IF SHE’S TELLING THE TRUTH?
Gabriel would call the agent’s question and raise him. What the hell did that sentence mean?
Was the guy also some sort of psychic, like Willa?
If so, what did he want with her? To recruit her? To study her in a lab somewhere?
Was he even FBI?
Gabriel could be overreacting. Maybe the guy was well-versed in psychology and used to cracking perpetrators with ease.
“Hello? Are you going to explain?” Ben demanded, rushing him. “What’s going on?”
“Later, Ben,” Gabriel rebuked. “Something’s off.”
Ben shifted gears. “What? Now?” He scanned the area, assessing the situation and landing on the only potential threat in the room, living or non. “Is it him? The guy in the suit?”
“He claims he’s from the FBI. Agent Veritas.”
Ben blinked in horror. “The FBI? What? Seriously, you owe me a long, detailed explanation when this is all done.”
Apart from that warning, he seemed to focus.
“Willa? Willa?” Veritas snapped his fingers in front of her face. She was so startled, she flew out of the chair.
Her jumpiness made zero sense. He knew her. She’d proven time and again that she could roll with the punches and had been doing so admirably.
Gabriel double-checked the room, concentrating hard to detect any of the telltale signs of cool energy that indicated something unliving was around. Again, nothing was here.
“Uh, th-this room makes me uncomfortable. May I go?” Willa asked again.
Veritas folded his arms, an eyebrow arched in doubt. “Is that it?”
She shrugged. “Do I need another explanation?”
“No, she doesn’t,” Ben cut in, standing with Willa, even if the agent couldn’t see or hear him.
Veritas tilted his head. “Hmm. Why would this room make you uncomfortable?”
She paused. “You don’t know?”
“Because my psycho dad tried to murder her here. If it weren’t for Gabriel, he would have snapped her neck!” Ben yelled, shooting waves of rage in the oblivious man’s direction.
Veritas tapped the tabletop. “Enlighten me. I’d like to hear it from you, Willa.”
Willa huddled in the chair, massaging circles into her forehead. “He, Chief Pierce, questioned me in this room.”
Veritas paused. “What? Like, here in the station? When he hit you hard enough to land you in a coma?” Willa said nothing, still rubbing her temples.
“But… how? I thought maybe he did it in secret. There must have been multiple witnesses…” Then, something, some piece of information, clicked inside Veritas’s brain.
“Oh. That’s why everyone… Never mind. I’m so sorry, let’s get you out of here.
Your parents will be anxious to get you home. You still have my number, right?”
Gabriel couldn’t tell if the agent’s surprise was genuine or not.
He actually appeared contrite.
Willa nodded. “Yes, and my phone survived the accident—”
“Accident?” Ben yelped.
“Or, well, okay, it wasn’t exactly an accident,” Willa corrected, seemingly unaware of how far off she’d thrown her dead boyfriend.
Veritas gave her a deadpan look. “No, I’d say not, based on the crime scene report that detailed the length and intensity of the skid marks and the multiple impact points on both vehicles.
That and the mud helped tell a story I think this police department won’t be able to bury, regardless of the extent they might wish otherwise.
You don’t have to worry about Chief Pierce ever again. ”
Ben paled, even for a ghost. “My dad? He—Is he—”
Willa added, rather quickly, “He’s not dead!”
Veritas blinked. “No, he’s not. You knew that.”
“Right, I know, I, uh… sorry. I’m just thinking out loud.” Willa shot to her feet, the chair skidding noisily along the laminate flooring. “I should get out of your hair.”
When she walked to the door, she kept her eyes glued down. Was she avoiding Veritas’s penetrating gaze?
Gabriel was at a loss.
Veritas projected reluctance in every motion, but he turned the handle and watched her flee.
Rather than follow right away, Gabriel studied Veritas, wanting to eavesdrop on whatever conversation he would have next. That plan dashed when a framed certification on the wall beside them began to rattle.
Veritas turned sharply, locking onto the anomaly in a flash. The corners rattled and bounced in a patter off the drywall.
Instead of watching an inanimate object move of its own free will, Gabriel addressed the source—Ben.
Ben seemed to be on the verge of losing it. If Veritas was psychic in some way like Willa, then Gabriel knew he needed to prevent the agent from witnessing anything strange and painting a stronger target on Willa’s back.
Gabriel relented. “Come on, Ben. They are heading home. Let’s get there and talk before they arrive.”
Ben nodded and zipped out.
Gabriel arrived in Willa’s bedroom, saw he wasn’t there, and checked the porch swing instead. Ben’s incorporeal form sat, but the chair blew gently in the wind, moving right through him.
The sight fired a pang of hurt straight through Gabriel.
He’d done the same thing the first year he’d died.
At night, he’d go to his room and hover atop the covers, unable to lift them and slide into their warmth after many frustrating hours.
He would stand near the table at mealtimes, watching his mom try to pick herself up off the ground.
Sometimes, he’d float along the river behind his house when he needed to gather his thoughts.
Every effort he made to cling to his past cut deeply with the reminder of what he’d lost, but ghosts were largely creatures of comfort and habit—maybe even masochistic. No one died completely at peace with their choices and actions in life.
Gabriel mimicked Ben’s stance, hovering in a seated position beside him. “Are you sure you want to hear everything now?”
“Yes.” Ben’s form grew, as if he’d inhaled. “I’m focusing on the fact that she’s alive to keep me calm.”
Gabriel took him at his word, watching him as he outlined the harrowing tale.
The swing’s chain rattled when Gabriel was wrapping up. Not once did Ben ask about his dad’s condition. Willa had inadvertently informed Ben that the lowlife was alive, so that must have been enough for him.
Silence followed, and Gabriel didn’t try to break it, allowing Ben to sort his thoughts out.
Not much later, Willa’s dad’s truck came rumbling into view, pulling up to the garage as it opened before parking.
They both tuned into the land of the living, expanding their bubble of awareness. Being dead was a constant battle to fight off the encroaching white fog.
The trees and nature solidified with brighter color and clarity—the way Willa always looked without effort.
“So,” Ben began, “you’re linked to her now.”
“Yes, and… I don’t think it’ll fade like before.” Gabriel waited for some adverse reaction, but Ben didn’t immediately fall into a rage. He was nothing like his dad.
“So—” Ben paused.
They both turned as Willa’s presence grew closer instead of heading up to her room. She was walking with determined steps around the front of the house, her gaze fixed on the ground.
“Willa?” her dad called.
Willa didn’t look up. “I’m fine, Dad. I just need a breather. You can start dinner. I’ll be inside soon.”
“Okay. It should be ready in twenty minutes.”
Gabriel glanced at Ben. “Do you think…”
He paused. Freaking Ben out after dumping the chaos his dad wrought on Willa probably wasn’t the smartest idea. If Ben got upset enough to rattle the swing’s chain again, it would scare Willa.
Ben watched her with intensity. “Do I think what?”
Gabriel deflated. There was nothing for it. In the end, they both cared about her, and her safety ranked over everything else. “Do you think Willa’s acting a little off?”
Ben frowned.
Willa paused, taking a few deep breaths. She reached forward, picking one of the mums framing the landscaping around the front porch, then she rolled its stem between her fingers for a few moments.
She squared her shoulders and rounded the porch, climbing the few steps.